Chapter 3 / Episode 91 – The Webbed Halls
Date: Planting 13, 576 CY — Night
Region: Drachensgrab Hills, south of Highport — Slave Lords’ Stockade
Weather (Outside): Cold drizzle beneath a blanket of low clouds. Mud and mist clung to the hills and the slave road alike.
Weather (Within): Damp stone, stale air, and the lingering smell of blood and confinement.
Players
Irving the Reluctant (petrified)
TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert
Silversun Ubermage the Magic-User
Slash the Bard
Tiger Wong, Monk of the Eastern Lands
Kern Blackshield of Safeton
Lady Morwen Ellisar (NPC)
Planting 13 — Fire in the Webs
With the Medusa slain and the lower levels of the stockade now open before them, the party pressed deeper into the subterranean corridors beneath the Slavelords’ fortress. The stone passageways here were older than the stockade above, their walls coated in thick layers of dust and age, and now draped heavily in grey webs that stretched from ceiling to floor like rotting curtains.
Kern Blackshield took the front of the marching order, torch raised high to illuminate the choking darkness ahead. Dog followed closely behind him, bow held ready, while TerryOr advanced a short distance back, muttering quiet prayers and watching the stone floor for signs of traps. Silversun walked near the center of the column, Tiger Wong and Slash bringing up the rear, each watching for threats that might come from the shadows behind.
The webs were too thick to simply push aside. Terry hurled his lantern forward into one of the larger clusters, and the oil-soaked flame caught quickly, burning the silk away in curling tongues of fire that crept along the walls and ceiling.
For a moment it seemed the corridor would clear easily.
Then the webs began to move.
A massive black spider dropped from the ceiling without warning, its body nearly the size of a man’s shield. Kern barely had time to raise his weapon before the creature lunged.
The Spider Fight
The first blow came quickly. Kern staggered backward as the spider struck him with terrible force, its legs clamping against his shield as its fangs searched for flesh.
Dog reacted instantly. His arrow struck the creature deep in its abdomen, sending a spatter of black ichor across the wall.
From further down the corridor, more shapes descended through the burning webs.
Two additional spiders, their long legs clattering against the stone as they rushed the party.
Silversun reached instinctively for a spell, then thought better of it in the cramped corridor where fire and allies stood so close together. Instead he drew a dagger and hurled it with surprising precision.
Tiger Wong stepped forward with fluid calm, his quarterstaff snapping against one spider’s carapace with a sharp crack that echoed through the narrow hall.
The fight quickly devolved into chaos. Terry swung his mace with determination but misjudged the angle badly, the weapon flying from his grip and clattering down the passage behind them.
Silversun finally unleashed a volley of Magic Missiles, the glowing darts streaking forward to smash into one of the spiders with devastating force. The creature collapsed instantly, its body twitching against the stone.
The remaining spiders fought savagely, their venomous fangs striking again and again. Kern placed himself between the monsters and the magic-user, absorbing the worst of their attacks while Dog continued firing arrows past his shoulder.
At last the final creature reared back.
Dog’s arrow struck cleanly through its eye.
The spider collapsed heavily to the floor.
Venom’s Price
Victory did not come without cost.
During the battle, Tiger Wong had taken a venomous strike from one of the spiders. At first he showed little reaction, but as the fight ended the monk swayed on his feet before collapsing heavily onto the stone.
Kern dragged him away from the webs while Terry knelt beside him, checking for breath and pulse.
For several tense moments the monk did not respond, and more than one member of the party believed he had succumbed to the venom.
Only after several long minutes did Tiger begin to stir again, his breathing shallow but steady.
It was a narrow escape.
The Dead Man in the Web
Further along the corridor, the party discovered another grim reminder of what waited in these halls.
Wrapped tightly in layers of ancient webbing hung a desiccated corpse, its leather armor long since cracked with age. Kern cut the body free carefully and examined it.
The remains appeared to be male, though the years had stripped away nearly every identifying feature. No coins or valuables remained.
Another unfortunate traveler who had wandered too far into the Slavelords’ domain.
They left him where he fell.
The Storeroom
Beyond the web-choked corridor lay a wide chamber filled with stacked crates and broken pottery. The room appeared to be a storage area for trade goods destined for the slaver caravans that moved along the road above.
Among the crates the party discovered delicate chinaware—fine porcelain pieces that Silversun quickly estimated to be worth nearly 450 gold pieces.
The treasure was tempting.
But the fragile cargo would be nearly impossible to transport while still exploring the fortress.
Reluctantly, they left it behind.
Terry suggested the room might serve as a defensible place to rest, though the party remained uneasy about remaining in enemy territory for long.
Before committing to a halt, they decided to investigate one more chamber.
The Ghostly Elf
It was there they encountered something none of them expected.
At the far end of the room appeared a pale, translucent figure—an elf, gaunt and hollow-eyed, shackled to the wall with heavy chains.
The figure struggled desperately against the restraints before tearing free and rushing toward the party with a scream of rage.
Then it vanished.
Moments later it reappeared in exactly the same position.
Chained.
Struggling.
Charging.
Disappearing.
The cycle repeated again and again, like a broken memory replaying endlessly.
Terry attempted to turn the spirit, but the attempt had no effect. Whatever haunted this place was not a simple undead creature.
Dog tried opening the nearby door, hoping the elf might be attempting to escape the room.
The spirit ignored the gesture completely.
It was not reacting to them at all.
It was reliving something that had already happened.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The Hidden Chamber
Continuing their search, the party discovered a concealed room hidden behind one wall of the storeroom.
Inside they found a small sleeping area containing several cots, a wooden table, and the remains of a crude meal—horse meat and watered-down beer.
A brass chest sat against the wall, rigged with a thin wire trap that Tiger Wong carefully disarmed.
Inside the chest they discovered 450 gold pieces.
A nearby mechanism revealed the purpose of the room. A winch connected to a concealed pit trap, likely intended to capture intruders or rebellious prisoners.
Even here the sense of unease remained.
At one point a ghostly chill swept through the chamber as something unseen passed through one of the party members like cold mist.
No one spoke about it for several minutes afterward.
Exhaustion
By this point the party was feeling the full strain of the assault on the stockade.
Terry had already expended nearly all of his healing magic. Spells were dwindling across the party. Even the strongest among them were beginning to show the wear of constant battle.
Kern suggested that the storeroom might serve as a temporary defensive position where they could rest.
Others argued that every hour spent sleeping increased the chance that the fortress above would discover the slaughter left in their wake.
In the end they chose to press on.
Too many prisoners still waited in chains.
Too many Slavelords still drew breath.
Outcome Notes
Monsters Defeated
3 Giant Spiders
Discoveries
Mummified adventurer wrapped in webbing
Storeroom containing trade goods
Ghostly elf trapped in repeating haunting phenomenon
Hidden sleeping chamber with trapped chest
Winch mechanism controlling a pit trap
Treasure Recovered
450 gold pieces
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